The Mother of the twins
by Sadari
Summary: [post-series fic/one shot] She went to his studio not knowing she wouldn't come out alive. JohanxOC


_[This is a post-series fic. Monster fans… Imagine Johan close to being 30]_

_The keys. _I thought_. _ For the first time since I moved here to his place I wasn't able to see his studio. I went down to the basement, _his studio_. It wasn't a sight to behold really, it was like any other studio of an artist out there. There's one recurring theme though: his _depiction of monsters_. Some of looked like godforsaken ragdolls, the others just downright ugly with its ragged teeth and disproportionate eyes. This sight makes me regret marrying Johan. _Will I ever find something beautiful in this trove?_

Well, I _did_ see something. It was an unfinished charcoal portrait. I assume the woman in the portrait is Anna, his dear sister, because she looks just like him. He said they had a falling out years ago, and he wasn't very keen on answering my questions about her. She's a lawyer now, I've heard. She's the only expression of beauty in this room so far… like her picture was not meant to be in this room after all. I became curious, I think I want to see Anna. I would learn a lot from her about Johan. I'm sure she would be happy hear that she'll be aunt to two wonderful kids. I still haven't thought of a name for them, maybe she can help me come up with a nice name for my little angels.

I started to look for things aesthetically pleasing, but I discovered none so far. I don't know if Johan ever wanted to keep this studio tidy, it was a real mess, made messier by his monster art. But then again, my Johan wasn't a people-pleaser. He only attends to his desires. I love him because of that,_maybe_.

Then, I saw this really big sketch pad of him. It contained several pictures in it. _Now this is what I call beauty_. I find it very amusing that he actually drew me many times before without me knowing it. And… _see that_? He even drew me carrying a bag of groceries! How could he be so hilarious! I feel I'm closer to him now more than ever. I decided I would keep this sketch pad and bring it upstairs. _He would never know_. It would not be best for this to rot in this place. It deserves some time in the spotlight. The smile won't fade off my face as I scurry through Johan's crap. I will never understand them, artists. But I will always understand my Johan. Sometimes, he's got this really annoying stare, like he's reading my mind or something. Oftentimes, it would freak the hell out of me, but his eyes of blue would instantly make me forget the fear it invoke. He is a philosophical contradiction himself. His thoughts would not correlate his actions. He would talk to himself out loud, and it makes me fear him sometimes, but then he would say, "I need to consult with my inner genius". _Artists_.

Underneath the discarded pile of canvas right at the back of the studio, I saw one thing that changed my perception of him. The picture he drew… looks just like me! The date scribbled however, bothered me. It read Dezember 1984. I could barely remember how I look at that time, but I was positive that I could not look like my present self at 8. There's got to be an explanation to this. I grabbed the cutter lying on top of his cans of acrylic paint and carefully inserted the metal between the wood and the tacks that keep the canvas locked in its frame. While dismembering Johan's work or art, I could remember Johan telling me not to do anything on his little babies. I know I won't win Johan's trust by doing this, _but who cares_? I _am_his wife. I must be more important than all of these. And besides, I can't bring his children to the world without knowing him fully. _Who is this Johan I love? What kind of a father will he be? Will he love me and my children dearly? why won't he talk to his sister? Where is his family?_ I can feel that by doing this, some of my questions might be answered, if not all. How he stared at me before… Has he the power of foresight? Now that's silly. My husband is an artist, not a fortune-teller. yes he writes some children's story books, and draws its illustrations, but that's it. He would really be strange at times, but he is a _wonderful_ person all in all. The last tack fell to the floor, and I let the canvas roll out in front of me. I can now appreciate the picture better. The colors are a bit faded, so the date must be accurate. I turned the canvas and examined its back. There's this curious scribbling right on the margin where the tacks should have been. I could barely make it out.

_Vi…ena?_ No, it's not an 'n'. … _Viera_, maybe? And then there's C, and then an 'e'… and then r, n. a. … Viera Cerna.

_Viera Cerna_. He only told me of that name once, but could clearly remember who had that name. Viera Cerna was Johan's mother I believe.

The phone upstairs rang and it startled me. I immediately left the canvas where I found it. All of a sudden, a groping pain surrounded my hips. It was slowly going up until it found my belly. _Oh my God_, I must be giving birth anytime. I cannot give birth here, I might die down here. And so I gathered my strength and tried to reach the stairs. _Not my twins please, Lord help me_! As I slowly go up the stairs, Johan showed up. It was relief to see him. My children, _I know_, would be safe. I held out my hand to him. "_Help me get to the hospital Johan!_" It was a desperate cry from the mother of his children, but I was surprised that he didn't even budge. "_Johan, please, you've got to help me. Get me to a hospital_!" He just looked at me, and I saw doom in his eyes.

_"The World is a machine for misery. I cannot let my children see the horrors of this World."_ I felt my pulse rise so high. I'm sweating profusely now, and at the same time I could feel a warm stream of blood running down my legs. " _Johan, this isn't the proper time to discuss philosophy! See, your twins are coming out! Please help! God, it's hurts so much, help me Johan! Johan!_"

_"I can't let my mother's mistakes happen all over again. I'm doing our children a favor by not letting them see the world. What is there to live if you're gong to die anyway?"_

I understand everything now. He had no intentions of helping me at all. Still, I try to conquer the flight of stairs. Johan went out of my sight, and I saw him close the door.

"Johan! Johan! Open the door! Let me out!" The pain in my belly multiplied after every contraction. _I'm bleeding… Oh, my sweet angels, they must live_. Summoning all my srength, I banged the door and shouted for help. No one was taking action. I could hear no one coming. I leaned towards the door in pain. I can't take this anymore. _What does he mean he won't let his mother's mistakes happen again? What mistake is that?_ I bang the door once more, feeling so hopeless. I cannot die here. My sweet, we cannot die here. I need you two to live, my children. I banged the door once more, and I heard the knob click. _Someone's coming to help_! When the door opened, it was Johan that I saw. He no longer had the lovely eyes I always see on him. _There was hell in his eyes_. He held both my arms, and told me, his face close to mine, _"No more mistakes, no more mistakes"_. Suddenly, my back was facing the stairs. _Is he going to throw me down_? I could not comprehend with things properly now, but then I felt I was airborne suddenly, with my husband's lovely face staring down at me. _Why Johan, why_? I felt the hard floor hit my back, and the sound it produced made me realize that I just broke my spine. There was pain everywhere.

_My children… oh, Johan… how could you do this to us. Didn't you love me, didn't you love us?_ I looked at the ceiling above me, and saw a familiar face. A face of an angel with a swollen belly, painted on a rotting canvas It was the most fearsome picture of a woman I ever saw… the most ugly picture of me I ever saw. A sword is sticking out from her belly, in all it's gruesome details. And then I heard Johan come down the stairs, with a long shining metal that clanks with his every step. I could only imagine what he'll do to me afterwards. Her mother's picture was the last thing I saw before passing out.

_Now I know why._

He wants to get even with his mother.

Oh, Johan. _How can you?_


End file.
